“Of course you can. Never doubt yourself, Qown. I singled you out for special training when you first came to the Temple of Light. That’s because I saw the potential for greatness in you. As for how you can help, start by picking up that sword.” Relos Var pointed to Urthaenriel. “Trust me when I say it’s best for everyone if I don’t.”

“But as soon as I pick up Urthaenriel, any spells I’m maintaining will fail. The water will come rushing in—” Qown’s eyes widened as he glanced at Thurvishar and Kihrin.

“They’re perfectly safe. Both Thurvishar and Kihrin are glyphed for pressure and air. Those won’t run out. There are no predators interested in humans in these waters. Also, I’m expecting one of the Eight Immortals to check on what happened to their precious control crystal any second now.”

Qown gasped. “In that case, we have to leave. Right now!”

Relos Var smiled. “In a moment.” The wizard walked over to the throne and bent over, clearing away the muck and mud to reveal a small chunk of hematite. He chuckled as he picked it up. “Don’t want to forget this. Morios would be upset if it fell into the wrong hands.”

“That’s Morios’s Cornerstone? Warmonger really was down here the whole time?”

“Of course. One of you might have forced Senera to use the Name of All Things to confirm its location. And I’m sure Kihrin did use Urthaenriel to confirm the presence of a Cornerstone in the vicinity. The only way to satisfy both means of checking was to leave the Cornerstone here. Now why don’t we be on our way. We have a lot to do and not much time to do it.”

Qown picked up Urthaenriel as Relos Var opened a gate.

The water rushed in over the two unconscious men.

Qown and Var stepped through.

By the time Tyentso finished, Janel perched on top of the very highest pinnacle of the temple, had a voice that could be heard for miles, and glowed.

She was also—at least temporarily—extremely difficult to cut.

“Morios! Answer me this. How does one become a dragon? Did you have to make some sort of demon pact?”

The dragon turned toward her, snarling. “What?”

“Janel, what are you doing?” Khored said.

She ignored her god.

“It cannot be so easy to become a dragon,” Janel continued, “or they would litter the valleys. Is there a guild? A special password?”

With each word, Janel threw fire at Morios, spells she knew would never ever damage him.

Come on, she thought. Ignore your brother for just a little while longer. Swing at the gnat. Bite at that snake’s wriggling tail.

Morios breathed at her, but the swirling energy cloud Tyentso had placed around her deflected most of the blades. The few that penetrated beyond that point bounced against her own protections.